


You and Me (But You're Gone)

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Living with My Mistakes [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Doctor!patrick, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Just all the tags from How to Save a Life, Lots of Angst, M/M, Moving On, Please Don't Hate Me, Writer!Pete, it's a bittersweet ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9537839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: It's been two years of Patrick carrying his guilt around like a child with a stolen matchbox car snugged safety in his pocket. Two years of grieving, of denial, anger, depression, and finally acceptance. It's been two years of picking up the pieces and mending them back into place with glue and band-aids, but some of the pieces are missing and Patrick's finally okay with that.He knows why they're missing, he knows where they've gone—they were buried with Pete.OrThe Sequel to "How to Save a Life" no one asked for, but it's here and I'm sorry.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ready to go?"

The husky seated by his feet underneath the table looked up at him with heterochromatic eyes, blinking once at the fedora-wearing man before sticking out his tongue and wagging his fluffy tail with delight.

Patrick smiled down at the dog warmly. "Then let's go, Bowie." Rising from his chair, Bowie quickly scooted out from under the table into the sunlight and fresh air of the outside cafe, sitting dutifully by Patrick's chair as his owner crouched down to hook the leash on the ring of his collar, and is one graceful movement rose to grasp his cup from the table with one hand and the leash with the other.

"Alright, buddy, you know where to go," Patrick said softly as the exited the area, balancing his latte in one hand while adjusting his fedora.

The pair walked side by side, along a familiar path, which led them past a rot-ironed gate and onto a pebbled walkway canopied by the evergreen leaves of ancient and majestic oaks, the leaves rustling gently in the wind as they continued on their way. 

It was strange how this place always filled Patrick with serenity and peace, he could spend all day here if could. He has in the past, after all, but the grass and the leaves and the breeze bring on a sense of tranquility...

After all, a cemetery is a place of eternal rest and peace; he expects nothing less. 

Bowie pulls on his leash a little when he spots the familiar marker, causing Patrick to chuckle softly as he allows the husky to pull the leash from his hand.

Patrick's heart races and aches at the same time, it's an usual feeling, but it’s something he grows used to every time he comes and visits.

Bowie sits patiently by the stone, tail wagging excessively as he waits for Patrick to unhook the leash, his eyes darting from the stone to the big oak tree no more than a few yards away.

"Don't play to rough with the squirrels, okay?" Patrick smiles as fingers deftly work the clasp, unleashing the husky into the grassy shaded knoll. 

Bowie makes his way over to the stone first, running circles around it with joyful glee, and even nuzzling the smooth surface of it with his head and shoulder for a moment before dashing off to the oak he had been eyeing, already playful chasing the squirrels inhabiting it.

Patrick rolls his eyes with a grin before sitting down on the soft grass in front of the smooth headstone.

"God, I swear the both you have the same attention span," he chuckles slightly as he brings his fingers up to rest against the stone, the pads of his fingers delicately tracing the name engraved into the grey granite

_Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III_

_1979-2015  
 Loving son, friend, and partner_

"Hey babe..." he breathes, heartbreak adding a slight tremor to his voice. He doesn’t speak for a few moment as his fingers rest against the granite of the stone, the sun shining down on him. Sometimes not speaking is the best therapy, he’s learned that over time. Sometimes the words just come to him, leaving him like a water running out of a faucet, other times, nothing comes out. Luckily, today the words don’t feel like burdens, like knifes through his chest, but instead, they’re like gently fluttering butterflies dancing in the wind. He breathes out softly before he whispers to the stone before him. "I can't believe it's been two years..." 

 _Two years..._  

It's been two years since he last woke up to whiskey-colored eyes staring into his and his too-wide but absolutely adorable grin, two years since he heard the last _'I love you'_ fall from his lips in the safe oasis of their bed, two years since he'd felt lips against his own and strong but gentle hands on his body...

It's been two years since their last exchange of heated words in the kitchen, since Patrick last spoke to him face-to-face.

It's been two years since the accident...two years since Pete _died_.

It's been two years of Patrick carrying his guilt around like a child with a stolen matchbox car snugged safety in his pocket. Two years of grieving, of denial, anger, depression, and finally _acceptance_. It's been two years of picking up the pieces and mending them back into place with glue and band-aids, but some of the pieces are missing and Patrick's finally okay with that.

He knows why they're missing, he knows where they've gone—they were buried with Pete.

Patrick's been visiting Pete's headstone for two years now. For the month after Pete had passed, he would spend every day of his leave from work crying in front of the cold, silent stone until nothing more came out, until his tears ran dry and his voice became so hoarse from sobbing he couldn’t even talk. Patrick can't remember how many times his mom, Pete's mom, Elisa, _hell even Andy_ , had found him curled next to the stone with tears streaming down his face, the engagement ring that Pete never had the chance to properly place on one his finger gleaming as his fisted the grass, pleading for Pete to come back.

It never happened, and it never will, Patrick knows that now.

He catches sight of a familiar woman in the distance, who nods his way as she eyes him with pity. Patrick's seen her before, she just drops off flowers for a lost love one and then quickly leaves, and as she does, she sends him another look before getting back into her vehicle.

Patrick only shakes his head and sighs, resting his chin on his knees. "You ought to see the way these people look at me Pete," he chuckles sadly, gazing at the stone in front of him. "They must think I've lost my mind, talking to you like this and letting our dog wreak havoc on the squirrels."

There's no reply, no grin, no witty comeback, teasing or playful kisses on cheeks, only the faint breeze playing with the hem of his cardigan and brushing away the bangs under his fedora. All he gets is the quiet emptiness, the silence,  of the cemetery, the peaceful chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. 

There's never another word uttered, and honestly, it still kills him sometimes.

But he still comes to see him, he still talks to Pete’s headstone as if he was actually right in front him, when in reality he's buried six feet below. He tries not to think about it too much, about Pete in his casket, about the harsh reality of what happens to a body as it decomposes. Patrick’s had more than his fair share of nightmares in the past revolving around that, driven by the guilt eating him alive...

But he doesn't think about it. He wants to remember Pete as who he was, always smiling, always laughing. He remembers the Pete that wrote him the letter tucked safely in his office desk next to a black velvet ring box. That's the Pete he remembers. That's the Pete he loved, no, _loves_ with every ounce of his being. It's also the Pete he lost.

But Patrick remembers, how could he not when the very essence of the man is in the ring on his finger, in every nook and cranny of their home, in the many books he wrote, in the journals the lined the shelves of their home, in the clothes still hanging in the closet, in the way Patrick _swears_ his jacket _still_ smells like him. 

Pete is engraved deeply in his heart. _Forever and never-ending_.

Tears start to prick Patrick's ocean blue-green eyes as he fiddled with the thin silver band on his finger.

 _I long to make you happy._.. The words echo in Patrick's mind like a ricochet, because Pete _did_ , Pete _always did_. Pete made Patrick the happiest in the world, since the moment they met, the world became clearer, more vibrant and full of life and color, when the sun shined more brightly in the sky than anything else, and the sun went by the name of Pete Wentz.

Patrick just wished he knew if he made Pete happy, despite the bitter last words he spoke to him. He wondered what Pete’s last thought was as the car was plowing into him…He wondered if he had felt Patrick's arms around him as he held him tight in his last moments, if Pete had felt his lips against his forehead, against his lips when Patrick had kissed him goodbye.

He wonders if Pete heard him sing his favorite song to him ever so softly, rocking him as his heart stopped beating...

Patrick still finds himself humming _Hallelujah_ it at times when he's thinking about Pete, unable to bring himself to sing Pete's favorite song in its entirety. He would try, but it always ended up in him breaking down as soon as he got to the last verse, memories of the sharp, world shattering sound of the monitor flat-lining, cutting him off as he trembled through the final chorus...

There was a world before that last verse, before the screeching alarm of Pete's heart stopping, and in that world, Patrick was _happy_.

And now, he's living the aftermath. He's living in a world without Pete Wentz and the light in it has dimmed, the vivid colors that once painted his world now faded and became muted. Music flowed differently, too, no longer holding the same vibrancy as before.

And Patrick...Patrick knows he has to live in it, he has to _thrive_ in it, because he knows, with every ounce of his heart and soul, that's what Pete would have wanted.

But it still _hurts_.

He wipes away the few tears that have fallen unknowingly with the sleeve of his cardigan, sniffling. "You know," Patrick starts softly. "I probably wouldn't be this way...I wouldn't be hurting this much if I hadn't met you, but I'm so thankful I did. I'm forever thankful that we got to spend the last five years together, than you pushed me through med school with all that support and compassion, and love...I'm so lucky to have had a chance to love and be loved this much...I'm lucky to have had you love me like you did..."

Patrick takes another breath before continuing, trying to steady himself before he speaks. "I..uh...You know how I told you that after the accident they took me off the ER trauma floor and bumped me up to general surgery? Well, Armstrong came to me yesterday and told me that my name's being thrown around for Chief of General Surgery since Dr. Lauper will be retiring. It’s a big step, I guess...I just...I just don't know if I can handle it, y'know? I don't know if I'm cut out for it...if I even deserve it," his voice faded off, his brain automatically telling him what Pete would say.

‘ _’Trick! Babe, do it! If anyone deserves it, it’s you,”_ he can practically hear the older man cheer in his head, a trick of the mind, but a gentle reminder that he can still remember Pete’s voice…It’s a comforting, in a way, he can still recall what he sounds like…he’s spent hours, if not days, going through their home videos…

"I just wish you were here to talk me through it, to give me your advice, even though I'm 98 percent positive you would want me to take it...I just...This is a big thing and...and I really wish you were here to hold my hand through it..." he chokes slightly, a tear falling from his eyes, but he doesn't dare wipe them away this time.

"There's...there's one more thing," he starts, his voice shaking with nerves. "I...Elisa and Andy keep telling me that maybe it’s time to get back into the dating pool...I'm not sure I want to, honestly, and they understand why, but...they want me to get out of the house more." Patrick looks down at the grass, watching as the blades dance in the gentle breeze, figuring out the best way to say what he needed to say next.

"So...I guess...I-I have a thing next Friday...kinda a date? I just met him once at one of our bar nights after a shift, y'know when we all get together and just hang out and trade stories, and he's nice...his name's Caleb. I...I...," Patrick brings his hands over to drag down his face, sighing as he speaks with a sense of certainty, of truth and devotion. "You'll _always_ be my true love, Pete. _Forever_. I just...I just hope you're not mad that I'm doing this....I don't want anybody but you but I know that's not what you'd what me to do, I know you'd tell me to get out there even though I don't want to at all…”

Suddenly the breeze turns into a strong gust, the leaves fluttering in the wind like thousands of butterflies. Patrick looks around and catches sight of Bowie under the shade of the oak, who is sitting up and alert, on guard like he always is when someone has come by the house and left...but he still feels like he needs to keep watch. Patrick's attention is brought back to himself when he feels something feather light land on him. Looking down, his eyes widen and then everything just _melts_. In his lap lie two perfectly white daffodils.

Patrick smiles as he gently plucks them from his jeans, twirling them between his fingers as another tear slides down his cheek.

"You once told me daffodils mean new beginnings…remember how you always brought me some on New Year’s?...God, you're such a freakin' dork, Peter," he says with a watery smile his gaze returns the stone, eyes roaming the familiar surface. He brings his fingertips to his lips and then presses them against the smooth surface of the granite, transferring a kiss from his lips to the head stone, like he does every time he visits Pete.

"But you'll always be mine. I'll love you forever."

 


	2. Author's Note

Hey there! I normally don't do ones of these but I got to thinking last night...

So, I have another addition to the story (possibly) but it's bittersweet, well more sweet than bitter. And I just wanted to know if you all would be interested in me writing it and posting it.

Let me know what you think! If you want any hits, it has to do with Patrick honoring Pete in his own way...that's all I'm gonna say!!

-Lace Xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is beta'd by [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade), who pretty much hated me for 'How to Save a Life' but she got back at with me with her heart wrenching Alzheimer fic "They Say Your Head Could Be a Prison". Seriously, go read it and prepare to have your heart shattered into a million pieces...
> 
> The inspiration for this came from LeAnn Rimes' "Probably Wouldn't Be This Way". It's a beautifully heart breaking song. For as long as I can remember I've wanted to write something based on those lyrics and this just fit so well, so I couldn't resist to add more to the 'verse, even if it killed me.
> 
> Thank you so much for for reading and I hoped you enjoyed this little rambling of mine! I promise the next update will be fluff to make up for all the angst lol.
> 
> -Xoxo


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